


...The Apple Is A Lie

by Lookingkindofdumb



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: AU after first Thor film, And Odin and Loki have to actually interact, Bonding trips with your estranged father, Bonding trips with your strange son who tried to blow up a planet then kill himself, Gen, Jotunheim road trip, Odin and Loki are two peas in a pod, Where Loki does not take a swan dive, the family that lies together sticks together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 10:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11401026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lookingkindofdumb/pseuds/Lookingkindofdumb
Summary: AU after the first Thor film.As punishment for his actions Loki and Odin sneak into Jotunheim and fix things (read, father-son bonding time). During their misadventures a plateau of understanding is reached.





	...The Apple Is A Lie

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt:  
> Father son bonding, two peas in a pod.  
> So Thor's king, and Odin now has free time to do something besides rule over 9 worlds. Loki meanwhile isn't handling being the one passed over well. Odin sees that Loki could end up a problem and decides it's time to give his younger son attention.   
> Give me:  
> 1\. No significant Thor presence; This prompt is not about Thor. This is Loki/Odin time.   
> 2\. Manipulative!Beneficent!Odin. Eventually he comes to realize how screwed up his youngest son is, and that Loki isn't upset over not being king. He's upset because he has low self-esteem and feels unloved. And this is pretty much where Odin goes from mildly concerned to deeply distressed and concerned *for Loki* rather than what he might do. Wanderer!Odin and Loki going on trips together would be nice.  
> 3\. Bitter, sad, depressed Loki, who wavers between craving attention from Odin and apathy toward Odin's efforts. Loki later realizes the original reason Odin pursued a relationship with him was to prevent him from causing trouble for the kingdom. Cue despair and Odin having to pull him out of it.   
> 4\. Eventually Odin and Loki actually have an excellent relationship, with Odin appreciating how much Loki needs and respects him. Loki looses his crazy edge and gets more playful and *happy* (which freaks Asgard out a bit).
> 
> So, AU at end of Thor film, Loki does not fall (Thor/Odin catch him or something. Dues ex Machina? Maybe Frigga ex machina?)

"I did not put Thor on the throne as a reward." Odin says, breaking the sullen silence. His younger son, walking just a little behind him doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to, Loki's eloquence is famed throughout the realms yet it was the times he said nothing that often revealed more, Odin thought.

"Nor is it a punishment as such." He continues. He is out of practice at explaining his motives, as King of Asgard not many people question his decisions, but his wife had suggested it as a way of...bridging the gap between himself and Loki. Of his two sons he had always assumed Loki would have realised what thoughts lay behind his actions and it chills him now, how wrong he was.

How, out of all the lessons he chose to impart upon his sons, did they _both_ come to the conclusion that war was what Asgard needed? Did they not heed his stories of how a good peace treaty spared many lives? How careful application of knowledge could render a war obsolete?

(He is not comforted by the fact that Loki bypassed war and went right onto _destroying an entire realm_.)

"It is a lesson." He concludes, satisfied that he has fully explained his reasoning. They continue in silence, Odin wonders when the acerbic remark with come, something along the lines of 'which lesson is to be given the _joyful privilege_ of being hammered into Thor now?'. It doesn't come.

He glances at Loki. His youngest is fully grown now, far cry from the tiny babe left abandoned. He is still very small for a Jotun and slender for one of the Aesir. Odin has enough wisdom to know that Loki has long ago turned this disadvantage into quite the opposite. Only a fool underestimates Loki Odinson, which means 99% of Asgard look at Loki and compare him unfavourably to his older brother.

Odin had thought this was an advantage, that to be underestimated would aid Loki in whatever schemes he was concocting. Now he is re-evaluating everything.

"Ah, we are nearly at the summit." Odin informs him, speeding up his pace slightly now their goal is in sight. He keeps the spring out of his step, dignity is essential, but he cannot quite cover the pleased expression on his face. It has been an age since he has indulged in a dangerous caper like this, since before his sons were born he thinks, and the excitement to be sharing it with his son is irrepressible. 

Still Loki does not speak, although Odin can feel the expectant note to his silence now, the curiosity that fuels many of Loki's doings raising its head.

"Here." He grips his son's arm and draws them to the ledge.

"A novel way to begin punishment. You didn't want to bloody an axe, I presume?" Loki speaks for the first time.

"You think I would bring you out here to execute you away from prying eyes?" Odin enquires, feeling his stomach sink as anger begins to cloud. Does his son think so little of him that he would have him executed for the same crime Thor committed and was then banished for?

Loki looks heavenward.

"Executing you would not serve reparations for your actions nearly so well as restoring balance to Jötunheim." Odin states, clipped.

"What reason have we to be here then?" Loki asks, glancing round the cave walls with disinterest.

"Since you seem to be so eager to formulate others opinions and actions for them, you tell me." His voice is heavy with sarcasm. Perhaps not the best route to take, he thinks, as Loki's face shutters. In apology Odin informs him for their reason to be standing on the edge of a chasm; the torchlight does little to illuminate the depths. "There are pathways to other realms that do not necessitate the use of the Bifrost, as you are aware." He finishes a little wryly. He is not surprised Loki didn't find this one; it was by accident that Odin discovered it in his youth. The gap between realms is down far enough that to have sensed it when actively looking for these tears would have been a feat far beyond any power in the known realms.

"Here?" Loki asks dubiously, for the first time looking interested despite himself, glancing at the cave walls with new eyes.

"More or less." Odin says.

"Which is it? More or less?" Loki asks suspiciously as with rare mischievousness Odin grips his arm tighter and sends them both tumbling down into the abyss. Loki does not give a shriek of alarm like he once might have but Odin can hear the bitten back oath.

The fall is just long enough for his heart to exit his stomach and for him to gather himself.

"Bend your knees." He says, over the roaring of the wind rushing past their ears. Each time he travels this way it is a mixture of thrill and terror that floods through him (though the first time had been purely terror, as he had assumed the accidental tumble would end with his body dashed against the rocks).

They land and roll apart in a mound of snow. It isn't a soft landing, they have fallen too far for it to be even with the softening effect of magic, but it is only a little jarring.

"Jötunheim." Odin says with some satisfaction, getting to his feet and wincing at the ache in his knees. He isn't a young man anymore.

"Is that the only route we could have taken?" Loki asks, getting to his feet and brushing snow off his clothes as a cover for regaining his composure.

"No." Odin answers truthfully. He is certain Loki knows far more ways to travel between realms than Odin.

"So why, pray tell, was jumping into an abyss the way to go?" 

Odin bristles at the caustic tone, he isn't used to being treated with disrespect (Frigga says that is part of the problem, Odin despairs of ever understanding her), but he takes it as his due. If a sons actions reflect upon his father then Odin owes many years of reparations.

"If travelling to other realms was easy then a far greater number of people would do so." Odin says, which is not an answer at all. Loki shoots him a sour look but refrains from arguing. Odin knows better than to be thankful for small mercies.

 

#

 

Both walk cloaked in a cobweb of magic to hide their presence they wander through Jötunheim.

It is far different from what Odin remembers of his forays as a younger man. The citadel made of crystalline ice is crumbling at the edges, like an ice statue held too close to the sun, warped and melted at the seams despite the fact that the world is colder than ever before.

The sky is dark, normal for this realm, but it lacks the lustre of Odin's memories. Where are the colours intermingling in the sky, the glow of the snow under foot and the ice sprites which flit here and there on the breeze disguised as elaborate snowflakes bigger than your hand?

Many decisions Odin has made as king weigh upon him and to be confronted by one that he has long since regretted is a humbling and disconcerting thing.

Taking the Casket from Jötunheim after the war was to prevent further uprising, was to protect Asgard and the other realms and Odin knew what fate he subjected Jötunheim to when he did so. He would do so again if history repeated but that does not mean that his heart is hardened against suffering.

Jötunheim was once a great realm, a brother realm to Asgard, and seeing it diminished so is a great pity.

He glances at his son, at the one thing more priceless than any treasure he has taken after a war. Loki does not see what the realm was once, does not see the grandeur that matched the golden spires of Asgard.

All he sees is a realm in ruin and it shows in the slight curl of his lip, not quite a sneer.

Odin closes his eyes. Where have the lessons about other realms being just as proud as Asgard gone? He knew they fell on somewhat death ears to his elder son but surely Loki who listened for every subtle meaning and hidden thought behind every pause or word of speech understood?

"My mother, _your_ grandmother," he adds, because he never thought before that he had to explicitly clarify family to Loki, "was from Jötunheim." 

Loki blinks. Practically a flinch from anyone else.

"Of course my grandmother was a Jötun, why else would I have been born on this forsaken realm." Loki says contemptuously. And he has missed Odin's point, again.

"How long have we been speaking two separate conversations?" Odin asks. Loki says nothing but raises an eyebrow. Sarcasm has ever been his second son's favourite form of conversation. Odin cannot deny that of his two sons, Loki takes after him the most. Thor is brilliantly direct, honest and free with his good humour, not perfect but he has qualities Loki and Odin both conspicuously lack.

"My mother Bestla was born on Jötunheim, a Jötun." Odin feels the need to clarify each point, to hammer his lesson home. It seems instead of sons he raised two stubborn mules. "My father, Bor, was quite the...adventurer as a youth and unwilling to be tied down to the throne. His arrogance got him into the world of trouble many a time." He adds, shooting Loki a sideways look. Loki's mouth thins; it seems he will take everything Odin says as a slight, finding a barb where none is hidden.

"He came to Jötunheim to seek excitement in warg hunting, a popular sport with lads too foolhardy to recognise the face of death when they see it. While over here he encountered a woman little enamoured with tales of great deeds, or those who demanded respect not yet earned. They got into many a tearing argument during the years Bor spent trying to get her to agree to a courtship. The tale of Sig and Seygra is based upon them." The tale of Sig and Seygra is a popular fireside one, where the main couple spend their time bickering and goading each other through a very atypical courtship until eventually agreeing to marry.

"You mean that your father presented her with a flaming sword?" Loki asks, true interest lighting his eyes. Loki, quite ironically, has always been a hound for the truth.

"That was a not very thoughtful gift." Odin agrees, glancing round at the snow and ice world with humour.

"And twelve dozen slain Rocs?" Loki queries, talking of the magnificent birds three times the size of the tallest Aesir and of far more use alive and hale than roasted for their rather bitter meat.

"I think the number is exaggerated." Odin says contemplatively, there would be naught left for Loki's potions if Bor had truly hunted so many. "Bestla was renown throughout the realms for her beauty and spirit. She was a noble, related to the king's line on the wrong side of the bed sheets." 

They pass the ruins of an old chapel, it reminds Odin of the small shrine where he found Loki, swaddled just outside the glow of the casket.

"She was constantly taking me to task over the mischief I caused." Odin reminisces, he isn't usually one to talk so but from the corner of his eyes he can see the hungry expression on Loki's face, the yearning for information that is never quenched. Perhaps it is time to learn to talk of things Odin thought were irrelevant. Perhaps he only sees them as unnecessary topics because he has not spoken of them to others. How is he to be held as a fair judge when Thor and Loki managed to blind side him so? One son tipped so far into arrogance that a soldier's blood meant nothing, another just a hairline fracture away from tossing himself into the abyss.

"I was far too wily for her tastes. Ve and Vili were much better behaved children. She once cursed me that I would have children exactly like me to reign down trouble like I did her."

Loki scoffs. 

"Well, she got her wish. Thor is appropriately thick headed enough to bring trouble like wars to your doorstep."

Odin raises an eyebrow. This is obliviousness at its finest, especially because it is Loki.

"She got her wish twice fold. I have one son whose primary solution seems to be hitting things with a hammer," It might be a little unfair of him but recently Odin has not felt charitable to either of his sons. "And another who thought genocide was the answer to all our problems." 

"To be fair, it would have solved a great number of them." His son says dryly. Odin knows his son resorts to flippancy when backed into a corner, knows that rarely is anything Loki says his true thoughts but it does little to quell his ire.

"Perhaps in the short term. There could be no war with a race that was extinguished." He allows, voice not harsh but not quite even either. "But you would have destroyed a race that was once, and may yet be again, a mirror to Asgard. You would have inspired fear into the hearts of all the remaining realms, that a slight or insult might turn the Bifrost in their direction. The trade would have rocked, as all Jötunheim exports were gone. And eventually, under the cover of darkness and perhaps even hidden by the gatekeeper himself who above all looks out for _Asgard, not_ it's _king_ , whispers would rise. The realms would band together and seize Asgard, wary of its influence and knowing the realm had grown too arrogant for its own good. Under such force Asgard as we know it would fall, many slain. Would this be the legacy you want for your home? For your mother?"

He holds off adding Thor's name, just in case it sparks off Loki's temper and makes him dismiss everything Odin has said.

Loki swallows, eyes wider than usual. And Odin often forgets how young his son is, just barely into adulthood and relatively sheltered from life outside the palace. Still. Old enough to take responsibility for his actions.

"Asgard is a wonderful realm, my son, but it is not the only wonderful realm. And there is always someone who will call a realm home."

It was a lesson that took Odin far too long to learn when he first became king and he is dammed if his sons make the same mistakes that he did once. Let them make their own.

Eventually they come to the area where the Bifrost decimated, the ground a blackened, wounded scar on the land, leaching out this way and that. The area is not so large as Odin expected but the destruction is worse.

The site where the blast originated is not close to a settlement but as it grew it came upon a small town, abandoned now, a small part of the buildings seared away. There are no dead lying around, presumably they have been taken and the proper rites given to them. 

Odin thinks that Jötun tradition is to bury the dead, to send them back to the icy bones of their world inside a frozen warg. The frozen warg is supposed to be food for when the dead awaken. It is a different manner to the traditions of Asgard which send their departed off to Valhalla in a ship filled with their worldly possessions and set it on fire to set free their spirit from their fleshy prison.

Odin tests the blackened ground by pressing his booted foot against it. It crumbles, dust covering his furred boot and creeping up the leather. It takes him but a moment to realise his error and he hastily steps back, tearing off his boot with a flick of his hand and sending it into the blackened mess before whatever that residue is can latch upon him and turn him too into dust.

"It seems there is more power to the Bifrost than first appears." Odin observes uneasily. That sort of residue is an ill omen and far worse than he had expected.

"Power of any sort draws beasts most foul." Loki says quietly, keeping well clear of the blackened mass. It looks nothing more than ash, as innocuous as the sort that fills your lungs and sends you coughing into an early grave.

"You think something latched onto the Bifrost?" Odin queries, eyes sharp on his son who always knows far more than he should in everything but that which truly matters.

"It is a possibility." Loki answers. "Is it not a path between realms? Is it not powered by the life force of those who dwell in Asgard? Any being would long to have such power under their control. Especially the types of beings beyond the veil, where even our valiant gate keeper cannot see." Loki's tone is biting but Odin ignores him. Loki and Heimdall have ever been at odds. Loki cannot forgive Heimdall for being all seeing and Heimdall cannot forgive Loki for evading his gaze.

Heimdall does not much like Odin either, for Odin too shrouds himself enough to evade seeking eyes when it fits his purpose.

But the gatekeepers job is not to like the king of Asgard, it is to protect Asgard from external threats. Even if the king is whom Asgard needs protection from.

"This looks the best place to start then." Odin decides. 

Loki looks at him.

Odin raises an eyebrow.

Loki frowns.

Odin rolls his eye.

Loki sighs and pulls out the casket from thin air. Odin was quite impressed with the ingenious solution to not wanting to weigh down his pockets when Loki first revealed his method as a child. Then Odin soon realised how aggravating it was to have a mischievous child who had a pocket dimension in his actual pocket.

He bets his mother is laughing in Valhalla. She was the vindictive sort.

Odin stands to the side and waits. Loki, not used to an audience when he wields his magic, hesitates, glancing surreptitiously at him once before setting to it.

Loki's forte is not in the healing magics, nor in the growing of plants (the magics most women are taught before they wed) so Odin knows this task is not an easy one. But his son is the best sorcerer Asgard has seen in many, many years (or sorceress', most who wield magic are of the female persuasion) and the casket is at home in Loki's hands in a way Odin has never seen before from the source of power. Like Mjölnir sings for Thor, the casket _recognises_ Loki.

Odin had thought the brace of daggers (bespelled to return to the wearer and etched with runes to make them strong and sharp) forged by the dwarves for a hefty sum along with an obscure spell book were perfect weapons for his youngest son when he came of age to learn to fight. Even as a child his fighting form was different to that of most of Asgard. But now, looking at the light that twines up his youngest son's arms, that brings forward the natural blue to Loki's skin, now, he sees them as a poor consolation gift comparatively. 

Loki has no need for matchless power, he takes what little he needs and wields it with the finesse that works far more effectively than a hundred times the power would.

The Casket hums in Loki's grip and Loki opens gleaming red eyes to focus on the blackened sear that pollutes this realm.

Odin watches, taking in the form he has only truly seen once, when he was but a babe. The delicate lines that present to the world his lineage, the black hair rare on both Asgard and Jötunheim and the red eyes that are designed to deal with a world of darkness and the glare of fresh white snow.

His son does not much resemble Bestla, she would be something like his great aunt by blood and Odin's mother, Loki's form is smaller for one, truly a runt in a realm where the shortest are well over seven feet tall and slender where both the Æsir and Jötun tend towards a more barrel like shape, sturdy all the way through. Although they do share a similar marking on their brow and Bestla too had a head of hair as black as pitch. Bestla was short for her kind, but still a foot taller than Loki.

Loki sends a cool mist of air over the unnatural stain, letting it envelope every and all bits of the dangerous dust like a bed sheet of frost. It settles over top. Nothing happens. Loki frowns and purses his lips. Again nothing happens. Odin can feel the rising frustration; can see the taught line to Loki's shoulders. Doing magic while frustrated or emotional is dangerous at best.

Who knows what would happen with this dangerous matter, should Loki make a mistake?

He quells the urge to interrupt and waits, watches.

Loki glares at the stain for a moment, having forgotten his audience, before closing his eyes and slowly releasing a breath, forcibly relaxing the tension that wracked his frame.

Slowly, with deliberate care, Loki steps forward, onto the blackened mess, shucking off his boots and lightly treading with a dancers grace onto the frost sheet. Odin again stifles the urge to interrupt.

As his bare feet touch the frost it solidifies, icicles growing from blue feet lit with the glow of the Casket. The ice expands, turning what had been a thin sheet into a thick blanket of suffocating ice. Loki inspects it, walking all over the cover.

For a moment Odin feels briefly displaced, like he is watching something not meant for his eyes, the feeling lingers as Loki does something even Odin's long experience with sorcery cannot decipher and the ice beneath his feet trembles and cracks.

Odin examines the splintered ground and finds no trace of the dark stain.

Loki, back to the skin most familiar to Odin and the Casket once again tucked out of sight, watches him examine his work with the twitchy, impatient air of someone who isn't used to their work being judged. 

"We should find somewhere to camp." Odin says once he is satisfied that the stain is truly gone. Using that much energy, even as a conduit, is draining in the extreme. Loki must be dead on his feet or will be once the adrenalin fades. 

Loki stares at him as though expecting something. He nods in agreement a bitter curl to his mouth.

Odin blinks, why does it feel like he has miss stepped somewhere?

 

#

 

The forests in Jötunheim are not like that of any elsewhere. The trees are squat things with clumped pines as leaves which are a dark blue, almost black. The bark is craggy but treacherous, soft where it looks to be firm and almost spongy to the touch.

The woods are also where danger lies. 

Odin does not know if it is tradition or if it is to inspire fear but for eons the most powerful sorcerers of Jötunheim have dwelled within these dark, forbidding trees. He would not come here if it was not necessary, the Casket has an odd connection to the place. Odin wonders if perhaps this might be where it was first formed, or where its first maker resided. Mayhap the Casket is just drawn to the power that lies in the forest.

"You used to spend hours in the woods." Odin says awkwardly, tone curt, he is unsure if this is what Frigga meant when she said he had to open up to their younger son. "I remember your mother coming to me in a panic because you had turned yourself into a leaf, to float on the breeze. You barely spoke then, choosing your words carefully and, I think, to frustrate your brother who took great pains to coax you into saying his name."

"It shows I had more sense as an infant than most of the fawning masses of Asgard." Loki says, ignoring all the points Odin might wish he had taken up. His son makes everything...difficult. It is wearying.

"That is not untrue." Odin leaves unspoken the fact that while Loki might have more sense than most of Asgard he also has the instincts of a lemming. 

"It was quite the entertainment. Thor pulled the most hilarious of faces when you ignored his attempts then turned around and politely asked your mother to pass you some fruit."

Loki is quiet, his face blank. There was a time when Odin could read every little expression on his youngest's face, a time when learning to do so was necessary to keep the mischievous child safe. He wonders how he ever came to the conclusion that he no longer needed to do so. It has only recently occurred to him that Loki didn't learn sense, just learned enough to keep his actions quieter, less obvious.

"You mastered transforming yourself before you could toddle. It made parenting you an _interesting_ endeavour." Odin admits with a rare smile. Loki's face sours and Odin can feel the mirth pool from his face like water off glass. He is _trying_ , is his child wilfully blind?

"That is-"

"Hush." Odin orders, glancing around warily. A twig snaps. Both of them turn to the sound.

"Good senses, Allfather." A voice notes, coming from a few feet left from the noise and just out of their line of vision.

"Not good enough, to be caught unawares." Odin remarks. Occasionally flattery truly is the way to go.

"Oh, I think to catch you at unawares would be a feat beyond me." The woman steps into view. She dwarfs him by a head at the least. He has heard of her, when he researched for their trip. Heard of the lady in the woods, the whispers of the witch and fearful mutterings that were not nearly so polite.

"Angroða, daughter of the forest." Odin does not incline his head but the respect for her position is there.

"You have heard of me." She comments with vain satisfaction and a new wariness.

"I seek your knowledge." Odin admits, truthfully. She gives a delighted laugh. Ah, the knowledge will be costly. Still, not enough to quell his curiosity.

"And what knowledge is that, Gizurr?"

"It is to do with the Casket. It responds to my son in a way that is unusual, does it not?" He asks. As keeper of the woods, Angroða knows more of the goings on of Jötunheim than any other in all the realms.

"I felt your tread, your boots crushing the snow, the very instant you fell through the cracks that intersect the realms. Of that of your son...his presence is intertwined with that of the Casket. I can feel him through the realms, his being hums with the light of the Casket." Her eyes gleam. Quicker than Odin can see (her magic is based in herself, her body as a core and it flows out of her actions) she grabs Loki's hand.

He wrenches free with a cry of dismay, staring at the blue that fades slower than it comes.

"Loki-" Odin steps closer upon seeing the shimmer of desperation once again in Loki's eyes.

"No! Is this why we came to Jötunheim? The true reason we are here? Why I ever believed you did truly wish to heal this realm is beyond me." Loki whirls round and strides away, not running but fleeing all the same.

"Your boy is melodramatic." Angrboða comments. "He is truly your son, Glapsviðr."

"That is half the problem." Odin grumbles. For it is true that Loki takes after him more so than Thor but to say they are identical in manner is false. Odin cannot help but wish Loki was either a little bit more like him or a little bit less, it would make him more decipherable. Alas his son has enough of Frigga and himself that Odin cannot accurately predict him. He has spun their qualities, good and bad, into something wholly new.

"He will not make it out of the woods. They keep those that enter, trap the unwary." Angrboða warns with more than a little amusement.

"You underestimate him." Odin says, because he has walked these woods before Angrboða breathed her first and if he could find his way out then so can Loki.

"Possibly." She shrugs. "Now, my payment. I answered your question." 

"Not to my satisfaction." Odin barters. 

"If answers were paid for by the satisfaction of the receiver then I would have to find another means of work." Angrboða rolls her eyes.

"You did not answer why the Casket responds so to my son."

"And that was not part of the original agreement." She counters.

Odin stares her down. Angrboða smiles, revealing startlingly white teeth.

"The Allfather drives a hard bargain it seems." She taps her fingers against her lips. Odin is not fooled, she wants to tell him more, revels in revealing uncomfortable truths, especially when others beg and plead to hear them.

"In my place you might do the same." He says.

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Still, a deal is a deal. I shall not tell you more but I will ask you a question." She looks at him and in her eyes Odin can see the relentless snow storms of Jötunheim, powerful and untameable. "The casket is the heart of Jötunheim, why do you think Laufeyson has such a connection to it?"

Odin settles his debt, the price is steep but he had expected nothing less, before Angrboða leaves him to his thoughts.

"A word to the wise," Angrboða whispers as she leaves, "the spring melt might bring about the birth of spring but it also brings the death of winter." This is the cryptic advice that Odin puzzles over.

It means naught to him, and it probably won't until after something terrible has happened. Such is the way of prophecy. Besides, it could simply have been said to mess with him.

Instead he thinks upon her question. He has ever known the casket was the heart of Jötunheim, but what does that mean? And what does it mean that Loki was abandoned there, within reach of the casket, left to freely wail to the uncaring stars?

By the time dawn is beginning its first crest (the third moon of Jötunheim has descended and a pale light illuminates the snow) he stirs himself and sets off to find his errant son.

 

(Gizurr - Riddler.  
Glapsviðr - seducer, swift in deceit, swift tricker, wise in magical spells.)

 

#

 

"What is that?" Odin asks, appalled. A fresh carcass steams in the snow, sure to attract predators of any sort, and his son sits, bloodied, in the snow. They should move away, the predators in these woods are not to be trifled with.

"Keep your voice low, you will frighten them." Loki commands, not looking up. He has taken the luxurious fur from his shoulders (the fur was a gift to Thor from an amorous suitor and Loki took a fancy to it, whether he simply stole it from his brother or tricked him out of it is a mystery to all but his sons) and wrapped it in a pile on his lap. Odin peers closer and can make out different coloured fur and alive, breathing bodies.

"Them?" Odin asks, resigned, he knows where this is headed. Loki has always shown more fondness to certain animals than people. Sometimes Odin can see why, at least you don't expect an animal to show basic intelligence further than not peeing inside and not ripping up the furnishings.

"Their mother attacked," Loki tells him; voice a crooning murmur so as not to disturb the cubs, "I defended myself appropriately. I found these three sheltering under her cooling body not long after." 

Odin looks at the slain beast. It is truly monstrous; a wolf of the ice plains that only barely retains any resemblance to the Asgardian equivalent.

This is one characteristic of their son that Frigga and Odin had both tried to cure him of. Wanting a pet was one thing but when Loki started coming home with serpents too large to fit in his room that was when they had to put their foot down. Their mistake was thinking the thing fully grown.

(They had let him keep the serpent for a while, they couldn't send it away after Loki had already brought it home and even as he was changing into an adolescent Loki still had wide, pleading eyes that it was impossible to say no to. Eventually Odin had to send it away after numerous people got bitten and had to be treated for the poison and when Thor tried to lift it after a stupid bet and the snake fell, crushing him.)

Loki runs a gentle fingertip down the head of the smallest beast of the three; it snuffles and wriggles closer to Loki's warmth. Odin sighs, he knows when he is beaten. Loki will be bringing his new acquisitions back with them to Asgard.

He glances once more at the massive monster their mother was and hopes that they don't grow nearly so large. Or so fearsome, he thinks, looking at the teeth each as long as his forearm. 

"We had best find out what they like to eat." Odin says, digging through their supplies and coming out with a skin of milk (spelled for freshness) and mixing it with mead and bread crumbled up.

The pups don't yet have all their milk teeth but Odin is reasonably sure the food will suffice. He narrows his eyes and adds some of the mother wolf's blood to the mix.

"I have not had to do this since you were a babe." Odin remarks, as he coats his fingers in the mix and lets the cubs suckle. They do not yet know how to eat.

Loki stares at him, before a nip to his fingers reminds him of his task. Odin can feel the questions in the look.

"You would not eat, not at first, wouldn't take to a breast. I suspect you had forgotten how or simply did not trust the food before you." Odin elaborates, remembering the babe that could fit in one of his hands. He remembers the way Frigga was reduced in exhaustion, having to deal with Asgard while he was at war, with Thor who was a stroppy child going through a period of nightmares and fevers. He had asked her to sleep while he dealt with the fussy baby.

Mashed up apples, milk mixed with honey, thin soups laced with stomach settlers and other potions, each of these he had fed to Loki drop at a time, hoping that he might take to the sustenance.

"Why not just send for a midwife to deal with me?" Loki asks, baffled.

"I could have." Odin agrees. "But I did not trust in anyone else to take proper care of you, not when you were so frail. Besides, I suspect I was too possessive." Odin admits, forcing the truth from his mouth with difficulty. "I gave enough of you up when I took back the throne, I did not want more to be stolen."

Loki stares at him and Odin wonders what is going through his fey son's mind.

They make camp in the woods, not ideal but it is awkward to carry the pups who are small but not small enough. They move away from the body, though, there is no point in flirting with danger.

For three days they linger, nourishing the cubs, and silently going about the chores they assign themselves. Neither are chatty types and more has been said by either side in the last few days than a century before. Or, to be more precise, more truth has been spoken between the two. It is as they are packing up that Loki voices a question.

For all his curiosity Loki rarely asks, preferring to find out for himself, alone. So the fact he is voicing it means that it has been preying on him.

"What plans did you have when you took me in? What was your plan for peace between the realms? I doubt the Jötuns would accept an Æsir raised prince as king." The question is thrown casually, Loki rolling up his bed furs, hands busy and eyes on his task. Odin is almost, almost, taken in. Then he remembers this is his younger son, this is Loki who could cloak a lie in truth before he could speak full sentences.

"My ideas never reached a stage where they could accurately be called 'plans'. I discarded them long before you came out of childhood." Odin shrugs, affecting the same casualness. Loki gives a considering hum but a frown furrows his brow.

"Of course I had idle day dreams of peace stretching beyond thought, where you and Thor were both kings of your own realm, of a lasting alliance...but that is all they were. There is a reason we-I" he corrects himself, Frigga was always against keeping the secret from Loki, "kept the truth from everyone. If I had wanted to leverage it, I would have informed King Laufey that I had his son, informed his kingdom so they could grow used to the idea. I would have visited with you, to acclimatise you to the realm that was to be yours."

Odin sometimes wonders if he is simply too selfish to have done so. Loki is _his_ son.

"But you did not." Loki says quietly. Loki spends most of his life quiet, everyone forgets that can be every bit as loud as Thor. Well, they do until his temper flashes and spark alight, setting ablaze with a fearsome intensity. Odin, too, is guilty of forgetting.

"No." It would not have worked, he tells himself. But would it have? As a King he is supposed to put Asgard before all else. As a father he is supposed to put his sons before all else. As Odin he tries to strike a balance between the two. 

"You said you discarded the plans long before I reached adolescence. What then did you mean every time you said Thor and I were both born to be kings?" Loki says, a day later, broaching the topic as the stars emerge.

"I meant what I said." Odin says, wondering how Loki has twisted his words this time.

"But you meant for Thor to take the throne." Loki states, so sure in his conclusions, never once imagining the 'facts' he extrapolates from are 'fancies'. 

"It was never destined that Thor would be my heir. When I said that you had an equal chance." 

"And I failed, then, is that it? What test or feat of worthiness did I lose on?" Loki asks, sounding careless, almost laughing. That is when he is at his most desperate. Why does everything between Thor and Loki have to be a competition? Can they not accept they are each proficient in different ways? That they are both loved equally by their parents?

"Nothing. As a King I suspect you would do well. You would not make the mistakes Thor will in the beginnings of his reign." Odin says simply. Loki reels back, as if struck.

"Then it is because I am not yours by blood." He says, again coming to the last conclusion Odin would have expected. Has Loki's tongue, ever poisonous, been even more so to himself? Does he suspect malignant thoughts behind every smile offered his way?

"No. It is because of the two of you, the throne would not destroy Thor." Odin says, coming to a halt and gently depositing the pup in his arms to the ground where it immediately begins to investigate. 

"So that is it? I am not as strong as Thor? Are we to be measured by all things physical yet again? Judged on pursuits that do not suit-"

"Stop twisting my words!" Odin bellows, Loki's eyes widen and his mouth snaps shut. "A throne would take away your freedom, restrict you, take you away from everything you enjoy about life. Do not ask me to bequeath you a role that would send you insane with boredom or destroy your spirit. Do not ask me to do that to my son, a throne is a burden I will not have break you."

Odin bites back the rest of the words that spring to his tongue. That Loki would destroy the realm seeking out mischief or that he would simply get so bored of ruling he would engineer a catastrophe just to face a challenge. Neither of his sons are saints, Loki would damn them all with his quick mind sentenced to a slow death from disuse. Thor might chafe under the constraints but he would settle to do his duty and find pleasure in some parts of it. Thor will make a good king. Loki would make a great one...at first.

To take away Loki's freedom is to unleash forces not meant for any eyes.

Loki stares at him, as if gauging his sincerity. Then he shudders. At first Odin thinks he is weeping, that his strange, second son has broken down and then the laughter starts. 

Loki clutches his sides and laughs, whole body moving with the motion, the maniacal sound ringing around them.

Odin wonders if perhaps tears might not have been less unsettling.

Eventually the laughter tapers off, green eyes shining but not a tear shed.

Something tugs at Odin and he turns, Loki moving just a split second after.

"Someone is coming." Odin says.

"Well, we have not exactly been quiet." Loki says dryly. Odin casts a glamour over himself, it is an illusion, not the full body shape shift his son is so capable of. Now he will appear to any approaching to be an average sized Jötun, he makes sure his clan markings are of a generic sort, like the ones his mother's cousin displayed.

"Change yourself. It will not go well for us if our true identities are known." Odin orders. He does not have to spell it out for Loki but his son is still resistant. "Quickly!" He hisses, less an order and more a demand. Loki grimaces but obligingly his skin begins to blossom a delicate blue colour and lastly, his eyes change from brilliant green to striking red.

Not a moment too soon, as just into view steps a small travelling party. Raising the ice to their skin in defence when they spot the father and son.

"Ho there, what is your business in the wooded realm?" One calls out, a captain undoubtedly.

"Answers that could be found nowhere else for me and my son." Odin says, twisting the truth just a little.

"Pressing indeed a question that would have you seeking out Angrboða." The captain says, suspicious.

"Witch." One of the others mutters, making a sign with their hand, presumably to ward off misfortune.

"Indeed." Odin agrees, not elaborating.

"This does not explain why you are on the wrong side of the wood, nor why you are trespassing on the King's lands." The captain points out.

"Well, we got rather turned around in the woods, Angrboða is not one to offer directions." Odin covers.

"True." The captain inclines her head. "Well, I shall let the king deal with you. For all your story is plausible it does not ring true."

Which is why they are escorted at ice point to a small encampment. Much like those set up by Thor, Loki and their friends when they go travelling. Only Odin rather doubts the tents are made of ice.

"My king." The captain crosses an arm over her chest and bows her head. "We found two trespassers; they say they were visiting the wood witch."

"Járnsaxa, you do not usually bring to me these sorts of problems." The King says, looking from Odin to Loki with a contemplative expression.

"The older speaks false, Helblindi, and I fear they seek to cause dissent." 

"I shall speak to them." Helblindi says. "Alone." He adds.

The guards murmur dissent but leave the tent. Járnsaxa exchanges a long look with the King before she, too, leaves.

"Remove the glamour; I would see who I am talking to." Helblindi says, voice like that of the rumble and inexorable clash of two solid sheets of ice. Odin hesitates.

"It is merely a spell to hide war wounds." He tries but Helblindi does not seem inclined to humour him. Loki does not so much as shift beside him but all the same Odin knows he is ready to fight and flee at the drop of a hat. He has not had an outing like this in far too long. And never one with a companion such as Loki.

"Remove it, or do you refuse an order from your king?" Helblindi asks, with some of the same dark amusement Laufey displayed before the war. It reminds him of Loki, somewhat. It seems manipulative intelligence runs in the family.

Odin lets the glamour slide away. Helblindi lets out a breath of air in a hiss, his hands clenching at the sides of the chair grown from ice.

"Allfather." Helblindi greets, face going blank and unreadable.

"King Helblindi of Jötenheim." He returns the salutations. Helblindi examines him for a long few moments.

"May I ask what the King of Asgard is doing skulking around Jötenheim?" The words are a test, Odin could take affront at the insolence. But he is in the wrong here, a monarch does not enter another realm in secret, such can be an act of war.

"Righting a wrong done to your realm and seeking some answers." Odin says.

"I had heard rumours of the stain vanishing." Helblindi connects the dots with frightening ease. "I thought it tall tales, or the sign of a new evil awakening." 

"No. My companion is exceptionally skilled in magics." Odin says, feeling both Loki and Helblindi's surprise at his words.

"Is that so?" Helblindi muses, turning his considering gaze to Loki now. His eyes linger on Loki's clan markings. Odin is now glad he insisted on Loki changing forms rather than giving him a glamour too. He won't be recognised as the second prince of Asgard in this form.

"You are of Jötenheim yet you work for Asgard. Pity. Jötenheim could use more gifted sorcerers." Helblindi sighs; once again dark amusement crosses his face.

"I suppose I shall have to show the great Allfather mercy in this case of trespassing. Jötenheim is not prepared for war as you have no doubt seen. Enjoyed looking over your son's handiwork?" Helblindi asks lightly, something that is not quite a smile twisting his lips.

"How proud Odin Allfather must be, two sons who hunger for war with Jötenheim. I suppose there is honour in fighting those without the resources to retaliate?" The question is a sharp, pointed blade. Odin closes his eyes briefly, his version of a wince.

At least here is proof that Jötunheim has spies in Asgard, Odin had long suspected it and now it is confirmed.

A warm weight makes its presence known on his foot. Odin looks down to see the largest of the pups sitting on his boot, tongue lolling out of its mouth revealing sharp teeth. He glances to Loki who had been keeping the pups in a spelled container, out of sight.

"You stumbled across wolves?" Helblindi asks, eyes lighting with curiosity as he watches the pup. Ice wolves are rare, any warm blooded mammal is in this realm and coveted. Ah, Loki again proves his skill in manipulation and his keen, clever mind.

"Their mother was desperate and attacked." Loki says, keeping his head bowed out of deference to Helblindi. As any Jötun would in the presence of their king. "She left behind two pups." Loki makes no mention of the other one. 

"They are fearsome when full grown. An adult Jötun is unwise to go up against one alone." Helblindi says, watching as the biggest pup yawns, peeling black lips away from shiny, white teeth. "If you train it correctly they can be excellent for hunting, so long as you keep them loyal. I'm sure you can guess what happens to those who don't." Helblindi grins.

"Unfortunately it is not easy to travel with such a pup." Loki admits, reaching out and picking up the pup. It growls but doesn't bite him.

"It is well worth the extra effort." Helblindi informs him.

"I was wondering, my king, if you would perhaps not mind if I make a gift of the two to you?" Loki offers, holding out the pup. Helblindi takes it, grinning as it tries to bite him.

"A bribe for your freedom?" Helblindi enquires, letting the pup gnaw at his finger.

"A gift, for a merciful king." Loki says, smooth tongue at work.

"You will make your way from Jötenheim, Allfather, and if you feel the need for future visits please restrain yourself." Helblindi says, giving them a gesture to leave his presence. Picking up the second pup and holding one in each arm. 

Odin has not been spoken to so for many, many years. Still, he holds his tongue and inclines his head. Great wrongs have been done in his name to this once noble realm. The worst he inflicted himself, he does not blame Helblindi for any bitterness.

He reapplies the glamour and they leave the tent. Járnsaxa watches them warily as they leave.

"You do not usually let people talk to you in such a manner." Loki observes, once they are out of earshot.

"And you do not usually give gifts of such extravagance." Odin returns in the same tone.

"Diplomacy." Loki shrugs with a grin. 

"Diplomacy." Odin sighs in agreement.

He has always loved his son but he is coming to rather like Loki after this little jaunt.

"I think we should test our luck, just a little." Odin proposes.

"Now I see where Thor gets his recklessness from." Loki teases, the bitterness in his voice when he speaks of his brother is not totally gone but it is far lessened.

"You cannot blame that wholly upon me. I tried to teach you both caution!" Odin exclaims, mock irately. Loki laughs. Unlike the outburst earlier this has no desperation to it, just a short chuckle of genuine amusement.

"You told us stories of war. What did you expect?"

Odin laughs.

 

#

Outtake:

 

"What was their response to levelling a town?" Coulson asks. The damage that...robot, made to the town in New Mexico was not insignificant, people were injured, buildings levelled. An official apology was the least Asgard owed them.

"Apparently they are sending one of their best 'magicians' to help with Dr. Foster's research." Fury answers, resigned. Coulson raises an eyebrow.

A glow appears and slowly, as though forming from the particles in the air, a shape comes together, a tall man in a green cape with a truly ludicrous horned gold helmet.

"I am Loki of Asgard and I come burdened with glorious purpose." The figure says, a mocking curl to his lips. 

Fury sighs; he already knows he is going to regret this. Like the earth needs one more arrogant asshole with delusions of grandeur.

**Author's Note:**

> (The outtake was the first thing I wrote.)
> 
> Yeah...so, I kind of wanted to go further and write about Odin giving out punishments to practically everyone after the events of the film. Like, warriors three and Sif, you guys committed treason here is an impossible task you won't like.
> 
> Thor, here is the throne, I dare you to do better than last time (cue Frigga in the wings there to step in if something goes seriously wrong).
> 
> And Heimdall...stares at the gatekeeper who stares back. just...uh...how do you punish the gatekeeper?
> 
> Then Loki and Odin bonding trip. (Where they go around fixing stuff because what Loki did was wrong. Very wrong. Smacks with rolled up newspaper.) And Odin needs to actually work out who his sons are now they are adults.
> 
> ...But, I got bored. So, the end.


End file.
